


glued to the back of this bone mask

by necromantrix



Series: anthem for the already deceased [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, M/M, i live for these two being friends, mentions of taako
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necromantrix/pseuds/necromantrix
Summary: “It was a date.” Kravitz is standing in the doorway of her office, holding a pitiful attempt at… something made out of clay in one bony hand and still holding his scythe in the other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are, at what is probably the last of these fics until we get some other fuel for a conversation/I come up with another situation for a conversation with these two. The only other thing I have planned with them is how they met and became friends.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. My tumblr is necromantrix and my twitter is @goodouthere if you want to scream at/with me about things.
> 
> Title is from "Ballad of Fuck All" by Malcolm Middleton.

       “The Chug n’ Squeeze,” Julia repeats, one brow raised in in a way that _might_ be merely questioning or _might_ be mocking. Kravitz isn’t sure which it is, but he _is_ sure that he doesn’t care for it either way. It feels judge-y, and the last person he wants judging him (well, second to last--the Raven Queen takes the title of last) is Julia.

       “Yeah, that’s where he decided on. I think he—I think he probably doesn’t want to be alone with me. What's that phrase? ‘Safety in numbers’ and all that.”

       “Uh- _huh._ And it’s going to be just you two?”

       An exasperated sigh passes over his lips, and he waves a dismissive hand instead of answering the question. “It’s not a date, Julia.”

       “Whatever you say,” she teases as she hands over the forms he requested—he’s going out tonight and he plans on acquiring a few targets before then, just so his next quarterly review looks decent despite all the running about instead of working that he’s been doing lately. “Have fun tonight, alright?”

       He narrows his eyes slightly, and she just laughs lightly at his too-friendly-to-be-frightening glare. “It’s not a date,” he repeats once more, sternly, before leaving the office, casting a glance over the forms in his hands.

\---

       “It was a date.” Kravitz is standing in the doorway of her office, holding a pitiful attempt at… _something_ made out of clay in one bony hand and still holding his scythe in the other.

       She laughs, and he realizes with with a small twinge of sadness that she doesn’t laugh nearly enough for someone with that hearty of a laugh. “I won’t say ‘I told you so’ because it looks like things got… a little rough, but—” She stops, looking suspiciously at the mass of baked clay in his arm. “What’s that?”

       “A vase.”

       The corners of her mouth quirk up slightly with amusement, and slowly her expression turns into a grin. “The great bounty hunter Kravitz, the Grim Reaper himself, is a lousy sculptor? Tragic. Would be a shame if that got spread around the Eternal Stockade, wouldn’t it?”

       He looks at the vase and shrugs, the joking threat not landing. “My hands are too cold to mold the clay easily. But that’s, uh, that’s not why I came here. Things went… not as planned, in several ways.” He sets the supposedly-a-vase mass of clay down on her desk, although he remains standing himself as he wills flesh back over bone.

       “Yeah, why’d you go all skeletal on your date?” Julia asks, the mischief fading from her gaze to be replaced with equal parts curiosity and concern. “I mean, unless he’s into that kind of thing, I guess…”

       “I think he might be, but, again, _not the point_.” Feeling secure in his hold over himself, he finally takes a seat. “I suppose… There are two things I want to talk about. Two, uh, _very different_ things. The first is short. I detected a lich, when I was with him. I don’t—I don’t know where it was, I couldn’t find it.”

 

       “A lich,” she repeats slowly. “That’s… very bad, isn’t it? I mean, bad given your line of work. Liches tend to be targets.”

       “They tend to be, yeah. But there’s nothing about one in the book, which means it’s evaded detection, which is bad. Very bad. These things, they… they never go undetected. I don’t know how it happened now. Another thing, possibly related but I doubt it, is that Taako’s umbrella—it’s a staff, but it’s definitely a cursed umbrella—tried to kill me.”

       “An umbrella tried to kill you _how_ , exactly? Kravitz, a lot clearly happened tonight and half of it’s not making any sense at all. I know you said it’s a staff, but it’s still just an object. Cursed or not, it shouldn’t be able to _attack_ you. I don’t think so, at least. I’m not used to magical objects, but that doesn’t sound normal.”

       Kravitz sighs heavily, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair to press his closed fist to his cheek. “I know, I know. Look, I’ll look into it later. I don’t really feel like running around the astral and material planes right now.” His fingers of his other hand drum rhythmically against the other arm for what feels like a long space of silence as he thinks and she waits patiently.

       “...And the other thing?” she asks.

       His fingers stop their rhythm. “What?”

       “You said there were two things, and you lumped those two together. What’s the other thing you wanted to talk about, since you can’t be bothered to solve the lich-and-sentient-umbrella mystery right now?”

       Ah. Right. Already he’s regretting bringing up that there’s another thing he’d like to talk about; yes, she’s his closest friend, and no, he’s not an especially closed-off person (being? spirit?), but…

       He sighs. _No way out now_ , he tells himself as he straightens in his seat. His hands clasp in his lap, the thumbnail of his left hand pressing into the pad of his index finger. It doesn’t hurt—he doesn’t feel pain anymore, not really—but he can still feel the pressure. It’s a grounding pressure that helps him focus. “I asked him if I could see him again.”

       “Oh,” Julia says, her mixed feelings written plainly across her face. Surprise. Confusion. Concern. Jealousy. The last she buries the easiest. She’s been dead for years, after all, and friends with Kravitz for all of them. She’s used to the bit of jealousy that accompanies knowing about his trips to the material plane. Now, of course, there’s something else there, but she won’t think about that for long. The emotions in the mix blend and evolve quickly into a gentle smile. “So you _want_ to see him again?”

       He hesitates, his gaze dropping to his clasped hands. “I, uh, I do. He’s a complete idiot, with no respect for any laws governing life or death, and he has absolutely _no_ concept of self-preservation that I’ve seen, but… there’s something endearing about him.” _Something alive_ , he doesn’t say, and when he thinks it it’s not just in reference to the fact that _yes, the mortal_ is _alive_ , _very bright observation_ _there, Krav_ , but is instead about some aspect of Taako’s personality. “So, yes. I do—I _do_ want to see him again.”

       “Do you think you will? You know that’s risky, don’t you? I know that… I know that _talking’s_ allowed. That’s part of your job. But getting emotionally involved…” The fingers of her right hand play absently with the wedding ring on her left, spinning it idly around her finger. “You know the risks involved in that.”

       Kravitz realizes what she means, and he frowns. “Julia… I know. I know this is difficult for you, and I’m—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have brought this up.” He stands up, smoothing creases from his suit to give himself something to do with his hands. “This was very absentminded of me, to not consider—”

       “Stop, Kravitz, it’s fine. Look, I need to accept this. All right? I’m dead, and I’ve only been dead for a few years. You’ve been dead for… so long that you don’t even _remember_ being alive. I don’t know why I tried to compare the situations when they couldn’t be more different. I’m sorry. You know how emotions are with us…”

       He sighs and sits down again, heavier this time. “Yeah, I do.” And he does. Emotions seem to be elevated for residents of the astral plane. He isn’t sure why it is, but he assumes it has something to do with them being nothing but spirits. They aren’t minds controlling bodies anymore; they’re just spirits sometimes controlling semi-corporeal forms. Because of that ( _probably_ because of that, at least), their emotions are strong and unpredictable and sometimes difficult to control.

       He refuses to admit it, but it’s probably why he’s let Taako and his friends break so many rules, and why he knows that he’ll let them keep breaking more. He also knows that’s why, despite her words, there are tears in Julia’s eyes as she stares down at her left hand. Fortunately, he’s saved the need to speak by her speaking again.

       “I’m happy for you, really. I’m glad you like him. It’s nice to see you so… You seem so alive when you talk about him. Even when you were frustrated with him dying so much.” She laughs lightly, although she’s slightly choked up. “It’s nice to be able to see this side of you. But it is hard, you’re right. It’s hard knowing that you get to see someone so close… so close to him, and I don’t have that option. I just have to wait until…”

       “It’s best to not think about that,” he tells her quickly, his tone distant. When she looks up at him, she can see that he’s looking at her with a sympathetic expression. He doesn’t give her the time to question the statement, either, “People in the material plane will keep living their lives, and we’ll… we’ll keep going with ours. I know it’s difficult, but just watching—waiting around for someone to die hurts worse than letting things happen without watching.”

       When she says nothing in return, her eyes dropping to the paperwork littering her desk, he stands and picks up his vase to cradle it in the crook of one jacket-covered arm, crossing around her desk to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Everything’ll be all right, Julia. It does get easier, I promise.”

       When he pulls back, he can see that she’s smiling and wiping her eyes. “You’re such a sap,” she chides him, and he smiles and rolls his eyes as he heads to the door.

       “And you’re mean.”

       Her response is to ball up a paper and throw it at him as he ducks around the doorway, his laugh echoing down the hall.


End file.
